French Kissing: A collection of five erotic stories

Summary

A collection of five erotic short stories from Xcite Books winners of ETO's Best Erotic Book Brand and Jade's Best Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010, 2011 and 2012.

French Kissing by Josie Jordan

Rachael is snowboarding in the French Alps with her boyfriend Jake, when she falls into the arms of sexy lift attendant Mathieu. Now she’s in the mood for some French kissing. But what about Jake? Up to now, she’s always considered herself the faithful type. In a little wooden chalet halfway up a mountain, she has a decision to make.

An Argentinian Tango by Troy Seate

Erotic relations in exotic locations find Jacob Smiley while he's trying to make like an American version of James Bond. He learns a playboy lifestyle can be tricky when you’re in a high-level government program. One must remember to check out his or her playmates’ credentials along with their bodies when high stakes, especially a moon mission, are involved.

Romanesque by O’Neil de Noux

What will you do if you’re taking photos of Romanesque statues in the ancient Roman Arena in Verona, Italy, and a buxomly brunette steps in with a cameraman and pulls her top down to show off a hefty pair of luscious breasts and poses for him? You join in the photo session. Soon uniformed police officers come by, Carabinieri, who step up to investigate and the model answers with a little oral sex. Everyone gets a turn with Carrie, screwing this insatiable woman as the camera keep clicking. Sunny Italy sometimes lives up to its sensuous reputation.

From Bradford To Bollywood by Victoria Blisse

Aisha works in her father's restaurant until the day a famous Bollywood director whisks her away to Mumbai to play the lead in his latest film. She loses her heart but not to the city of bright lights or the romantic movie she stars in. She falls crazily in love with Kareem who walks in on her masturbating in his office. What will he do with her next?

Only In Vegas by Elizabeth Coldwell

They'd talked about having a swinging adventure, and a lifestyle convention in Vegas seemed like the perfect place to try it out. The city seemed like nothing special in daylight, but at night – and with the help of a hot stranger – it came to life, giving them a holiday they'd never forget...

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French Kissing - Josie Jordan

French Kissing

by Josie Jordan

There I was on my back, with my legs in the air, sliding down an icy slope.

‘Help!’ I cried, but all I got was a mouthful of ice-chips.

The legs of skiers and fellow snowboarders flashed past as I accelerated downwards. Just as I was about to slam into a fir tree, a strong pair of arms gripped hold of me, bringing me to a stop.

‘Ca va?’

Through the snow-covered lenses of my goggles I saw the lift attendant peering down at me. ‘Ca va,’ I said weakly.

When I removed my goggles, I saw him properly for the first time. What was it about some people that made them irresistible? Their smell? Their body language? Or just that mysterious element known as chemistry? Whatever it was, he had it.

He helped me to my feet.

‘Merci,’ I said, blushing furiously.

He must have sensed how unstable I was, for he kept hold of my gloved hand. ‘Engleesh?’

‘Yes,’ I said, annoyed my accent had given me away already.

I’d come to this small French ski resort with my boyfriend, Jake. It was our first day snowboarding, so perhaps it wasn’t surprising that we’d fallen off the tow lift barely fifty metres up. But I thought snow was supposed to be soft! My bottom throbbed from where I’d landed on it. In fact I felt like I’d had a good spanking.

Jake limped towards us. ‘You OK, Rach?’ he shouted.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I called. ‘You?’

‘Yeah.’

The lift attendant shifted his Oakleys to his forehead. Was it my imagination, or was there more interest than there ought to be in his huge dark eyes? Flustered, I busied myself brushing the snow off my jacket.

‘My name is Mathieu,’ he said.

‘I’m Rachael,’ I replied.

I had a split second to prepare myself before his warm lips pressed against my frozen flesh. They were soft with a hint of stubble. Four kisses: two on either cheek. And by now Jake was right in front of us. Being French though, Mathieu got away with it, especially since he then turned to Jake as if to kiss him too.

I saw my boyfriend tense, clearly fearing the same. But Mathieu just slapped his back in a friendly manner and Jake let out his breath in relief.

Anyway, that turned out to be the limit of Mathieu’s Engleesh. Luckily I spoke reasonable French. Ignoring the muttering of people waiting on the lift, Mathieu showed us how to hold the T-bar.

‘Open your legs,’ he told me, and I felt myself flushing again. I clung to his shoulders for support while he eased the T-bar between my thighs. He was a big guy, broad as well as tall, yet he had a surprisingly gentle manner.

He helped Jake into place beside me. ‘Now hold on tight,’ he called and started the lift running again.

This time Jake and I managed to stay upright. ‘I wonder if all the lift attendants here are that friendly,’ Jake said, as we slid on up the mountain.

* * *

The following day when we were queuing for the lift, Mathieu came bounding from his hut to greet us. ‘Jake! Rachel!’

I loved how he said my name. There were four more kisses that made my stomach burn up despite the sub-zero air temperature, and an invitation to his New Year’s party.

‘Nice bloke,’ Jake said.

‘Yeah,’ I agreed, glad he hadn’t noticed the effect Mathieu had on me.

Up to now, I’d always considered myself the faithful type. I was about to be put to the test.

That night, Mathieu wore loose-fitting dark jeans and a black silk shirt instead of his red and yellow resort uniform. We were the first to arrive. There was wine for me and beer for Jake and a tour of the small wooden chalet.

‘I built it,’ Mathieu told us proudly.

‘No way!’ Jake exclaimed.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I said.

Mathieu smiled. ‘I lived all my life in this valley and I’ll never leave it.’

I sucked in a little breath when he led us down the pine-panelled corridor to his bedroom. What exactly did he intend here? Menage a Trois was a French term, after all.

The covers of his double bed were drawn back invitingly. I wanted to jump right in.

The two men stood by the window. As Mathieu pointed out at the snow-dusted fir trees that glowed in the light of the moon, his shirt rode up to reveal a glimpse of bare midriff. His other hand rested on Jake’s shoulder, a move I could tell Jake wasn’t altogether comfortable with.

Physically the two men couldn’t have looked more different. Jake was lean and blond - a metro man, if you know what I mean. I could see how other men (if they were that way inclined) might get the wrong idea about him. He got his bum pinched in nightclubs on a regular basis.

Did Mathieu want to fuck my boyfriend? I imagined him groaning away on top of Jake and my knees went weak. But sadly there was little chance